All the King's Men
by howitfeelstoloveagirl
Summary: It is South East London, 1968. Trying to survive surrounded by homophobia and hatred, Kurt and Blaine are trying to make their love work. Their friend, Sam, is trying desperately to escape the poverty and social classes, and land Quinn Fabray, the girl of his dreams. They learn the hard way what is truly means to be different in a society to which this is a sin.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

_April 17th 1978_

_One day all this will be gone. Everyone I know, every place I love, will cease to exist. It will all just be a memory. And then, when there's no one left to remember it, it will be as if it never happened._

_But we are here, we are living. I am looking at him and he is looking at me, and the sun is setting so peacefully. This isn't a memory, this is reality. His hand is in mine and I look up and he kisses me. In that moment we are one, and he is mine._

_But every moment passes. Soon we will be just a memory. I don't want to be forgotten. We are real, we are alive. Our legacies shouldn't die with us._

_Know that there once was a boy named Kurt Hummel, and he was all I ever wanted. He was kind, and smart. He was the bravest man I ever knew. But the world never gave him a chance. They never gave us a chance. The world is a cruel place, but somehow we managed to find joy._

_Some stories deserve to be known, some people deserve to be remembered. Kurt Hummel is one of those people. One day, even when all of this is no longer, I want Kurt remembered. As long as there is someone left to remember it, it shall never die._

_This is the story of our life. And this is how it goes._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One:**

**October 4th 1968**  
**South East London**  
**Sam Evans:**

"Change to spare?"  
"I wish, sorry."

I made my way quickly down the street, keeping my head down and hands in my pocket, my knuckles grasped firmly around a switchblade, one used all too often. I ignored the beggars on the street, pawing and grabbing at me in hopes of a couple pence. But truth be told, they were after the wrong person. I was extremely close to becoming one of them. I was dirt poor, we all were, here in South East London. We had but a few pounds to our name.

It was nearing midnight. Only the dull street lamps lit the crowded streets. I, like many around me, was heading to Old Kent Road. Old Kent Road, a working man's dream. It was a never ending charade of bars and clubs. "One on every corner!" They said.

We'd make our way from bar to bar throughout the night, like we have so many time before. At the end of the night, or should I say, beginning of the morning, we'd gather at the final bar, and declare ourselves champions. It was an achievement to make it to the end of the street. But one we'd pay for the following day, by puking our guts out and trying to shut out the pounding headache.

I turned into Elephant and Castle, probably the busiest intersection in London. Street after street led to this one place. There were people and cars everywhere, hollering to one another. Drunken idiots were stumbling around, looking for a fight.

I quickened my pace and ran to the corner where Elephant and Castle met Old Kent Road. I could already see my friends standing there.

"Hey!" I called out once I was within earshot.  
"Sammy boy!" Puck slurred, an empty beer bottle in his hand.  
"Well you clearly didn't wait to start drinking." I laughed. "Hi, Finn, Kurt."

"Puck got fired today." Kurt said quietly.  
"Well, fuck." I said. Puck getting fired meant he wouldn't be able to pay his portion of the rent. The rent, which we were already three months behind on. We were on the brink of eviction. I kicked a nearby rock in frustration.  
"What the hell are we going to do?" I asked.

"I'll take him to the factory." Finn said enthusiastically. I could tell it was fake though, his optimism. He was trying to make us feel better, make us feel like it wasn't so bad. It's what we did.  
"They're making cuts left and right there." Kurt said. "Finn, you're already under their radar, you really shouldn't be asking any favors... we don't need two of us unemployed."  
"He can come to the lumber yard. My boss likes me, I always stay late and clean up. I can get Puck something there, even if it is menial."  
"Aren't all our jobs menial?" Kurt snorted.

"Guys! Look a' Sammy's hair." Puck lurched forwards, nearly knocking me down. "'tis so pretty an' gold. Goldy locks! Princess Sammy."

I rolled my eyes. "Wasn't expecting this so early, we haven't even hit the first bar yet."  
"Should we still go?" Finn said uncertainly. "God knows we need all the money we have."  
"C'mon, it's our saturday night." Kurt whined.  
"Do you want to drink, or have a place to sleep?" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up.  
"I need a distraction tonight." Kurt said solemnly, avoiding our eyes.

My eyes softened and I nodded. Kurt bit his lip and turned away from us. I exchanged a worried glance with Finn. Puck just took another swig of beer, completely unaware.

We were all going through tough stuff. Our tiny, run down apartment was our only shelter, and it was close to being taken away from us. We'd all had to drop out of college, we just simply didn't have the money. We were all struggling to survive in this fucked up world. Being lower class working men in London was not easy.

But Kurt had problems on an entirely different level. Kurt had a secret. We knew, of course, and so did some others, especially those with the same secret that Kurt met up with in bars. But Kurt couldn't tell many others, if he wanted to keep his life.

Kurt was gay, and in 1968 England, this was the worst you could possibly be. The whole country was against gays, even the cops. Last year the Sexual Offences Act finally made it legal for people of the same gender to have sexual relations. At least, if they were over the age of twenty one. But the gays were still brutally attacked, shunned from jobs and apartments. The police still raided their clubs, looking for any excuse to bring them in.

Resisting arrest was a common charge. It's pretty hard to agree to anything when you're being kicked on the ground.

To make matters worse, Kurt was twenty years old. All five of us were. We were doing our best to protect him, but he was still living a hellish life. How could we deny him a chance to forget it all, if just for a night?

"All right." I sighed. "Bet you can't make it to the end of the street without throwing up." I poked Kurt playfully.  
"Hmm." He said, his face expressionless.  
"Bet Puck doesn't make it to the first bar still standing." Finn joked. Sure enough, Puck was stumbling around in circles like his legs were jelly.

* * *

"Gin and tonic!" I yelled over the noise. The Gravel Pub was at it's worst, and best.

The Bee Gees thundered out of the speakers. Drunk men and women paraded around the floor in what could barely pass for dancing. The bar was filled with people young and old, drinking away their paycheck and dreaming of better days.

Carl, the bartender, nodded to me and busily set about making our drinks. I returned to my whiskey, stirring it absent mindedly.  
"You're starting small." Kurt said sarcastically, slumping down into the stool next to me.  
"You know Santana's over there." He said, smirking.

As good as it was the see him smile, I shoved his arm, blushing furiously.  
"Shut up, I don't even like her really."  
"Just like sucking face?"  
"Oh, fuck off."

Kurt shook his head, smiling, and returned to his own whiskey. He chugged it down like only someone with years of experience could. It would have been impressive, if it weren't so worrisome.

But Saturday nights were our safe zones. We had an unspoken agreement not to speak about any of our troubles. I kept my mouth shut. After all, who was I to judge, with the amount of liquor I was planning on consuming tonight?

"You can sure handle your liquor." A pretty brunette said, sliding up next to Kurt. She leant over and took a sip of his drink, blinking her long eyelashes flirtatiously. I coughed to avoid laughing. Kurt glared at me.  
"Ignore my dumbass friend." He said dismissively. "He's a bit of a tosser."

"Do you want to dance?" The girl asked Kurt. Kurt shrugged.  
"Yeah, okay. I'll be over in one minute."

The girl walked over to the dance floor, motioning for him to come join her.  
"Um, may I ask what you're doing?"  
"Just dancing." He shrugged.

I shook my head, laughing. The girl pulled him close to her. He backed away a bit. I shook my head at her disappointed face.  
"You're just not his type." I laughed quietly to myself.

Kurt was no stranger to drunk women hitting on him, he just usually didn't take them up on their offers.

Kurt was an attractive guy, I had to admit that. He's lost his baby fat and feminine features his past year. He had great hair he took all too much care of. He was also very sympathetic and kind, something lonely, drunk women raved over at two in the morning. And he was not the least bit nervous with the ladies, as one could understand why.

But most nights, Kurt didn't pay the girls any attention. This worried me, this sudden change in him. I didn't forget the distant look in eyes earlier that night.

"Fancy buying me a drink?"

I turned around. There was Santana, looking as beautiful as ever. Her long dark hair was hanging down her back like a waterfall. She wore a tight black dress that only covered the bare essentials.  
I thought of my own attire, simple brown slacks and white t shirt. I wasn't even half as well dressed as Kurt, who wore black jeans and combat boots, with a loose blue v neck. I had no idea how Kurt could afford such nice clothes on such a small salary. "I bargain hunt." He always said.

"I'm pretty broke, to be honest, Santana." I said.  
She sat down anyways. "Me too."  
"Still waitressing at Clancy's?"  
"Yeah." She sighed. "And it sucks. Drunken, rich businessmen can't keep their dirty hands off me."  
"I'm sorry." I said earnestly.

Santana and I dated, a while back. It was a really unhealthy relationship. Although both of us care for the other, we were never in love. We didn't have the sparks. We'd drink and dance like there was no tomorrow, but that was pretty much the extent of our relationship. It drew out for eight months. I think the only reason it lasted so long was because the alternative was being alone, and we were both scared of that.

"Seeing anyone?" I ask after an awkward silence.  
"Nope."  
"Same."

I was embarrassed to admit it, but even when we were dating our conversations had been just as exhilarating. Although back then we usually filled the awkward silence without make out sessions.

"Ever think of running away?" Santana said suddenly. "Just hoping in a car and drive wherever you want, far away from this hell hole?"  
I pause, stirring my drink. "All the time." I whisper.

"I'd go to America." Santana continued. "New York City, maybe. "The city of dreams" they call it. I could start over, you know, maybe have a chance at a decent life?"  
"We could still get that here.."

"C'mon, Sam, look around. You see those old men and women down there? They come here every night after work and sit at those same stools. They order the same drinks and have the same mind numbing conversations with the same people. They go home to their crappy apartments, barely able to pay for their kid's crappy school. They go to a menial job, making hardly anything. I don't want that to become my life." Santana said, her dark eyes wide and desperate.  
"I want to be somebody." She added.  
"I do too." I said. "I sometimes go by the rich side of London. I walk around the suburbs. The perfect white houses, with the perfect family. Happy, healthy children, with bright futures. A nice, new car in the driveway. Enough food on the table to not have to worry... that's what I want one day." I confessed.

"We were given the short ended stick." Santana sighed. "Born into poverty, entitled to nothing. How can we overcome poverty? We can hardly go and get an education, how can we pay? It's a never ending circle, and it sucks."

"But America's different?"  
"Yeah. I'm not saying there isn't poverty there, but there's more of a chance for you, more opportunities."  
"But how will you get there? It must cost loads of money."  
"That's the hard part." Santana said quietly.

"Santana!" A blond girl runs over, her face flushed with excitement. "They're playing our song! Hey Jude! Let's dance!" The blond girl pulled Santana up, a sincere smile spreading over Santana's face.  
"This is Brittany." She says to me, laughing as Brittany tugged on her arm. "Bye, Sam!"  
"Bye." I say, but she's not listening. She's spinning around with Brittany, looking blissfully happy. A far cry from the sad and desperate girl I'd been talking to not a moment ago.

I stared down at my drink, thinking back to my perfect family dream. There was one part I'd left out when talking to Santana. The mother is my fantasy, my wife, she had a face and a name. It was Quinn Fabray.

Quinn was a girl far out of my league. She was beautiful and rich. She was from a different world. I'd known her as a teenager, we'd hung out at the same mall. We'd spent many days in the record store, talking about everything imaginable. Our favorite music, movies, books. Our family life, our dreams. I was closer to her than I'd ever been to anybody else.

But then we'd grown up. Quinn had gone of to a fancy college, and I only saw her by chance, when she came home on the holidays and was just lucky enough to be at the same store as me.

Well, it wasn't entirely by chance. I spent most of my holidays roaming the places Quinn might be. My friends called this "pathetic", and to a degree I had to agree. But the feeling I got when I saw Quinn was indescribable. And the fact that she still smiled when she saw me, eager to catch up on each others lives, well that gave me hope.

"Thinking of Quinn?" Kurt said, sitting down in Santana's unoccupied chair.  
"Thinking of Blaine?" I asked.  
"We know each other too well."  
"It's not like we've got a chance with either one of them. There's no future there." Kurt said sadly.  
"Another drink?" I asked.  
"Of course."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you all enjoyed this :)**

**This story was inspired by the song "Glad to be Gay" By Tom Robinson Band. I highly recommend you listen to it. It will give you a better understanding of the era this story is set in, and the troubles homosexuals of that time had to go through. It's extremely sad, especially given the fact that it was not all that long ago. My dad was living in East London at that time. The song is very moving.**

**While this chapter is narrated by Sam, they won't all be. POVs will be from Kurt, Sam, Finn, Blaine and Puck. The most common POVS will be Kurt, Blaine and Sam. Make sure to note the name at the top of the story! :)**

**Reviews are awesome! I love to know what you guys think, or want in the future. I'm open to promps, and feed off reviews.**

**Thank you xox**


	3. Chapter 3

**Kurt:**

I was drunk, there was no denying it, but of all of us I was by far the least drunk. My thoughts were numb and I was feeling reckless, but I was at least aware of what was going on. Unlike Finn and Puck, who were freaking out because the Earth was tilting.  
"'s a fucking slide!" Finn yelled from the floor, as he held tightly to a bar stool.  
"It's the apopolysp!" Puck said from under a table.  
"I fink you mean apopolypse!"

"Why do we hang out with such morons?" I laughed, glancing over at Sam.  
"We need their money for rent." Sam said seriously. The smile slid off my face.

"Hey, dude, let's go to Jenners." He said quietly, looking around. "I know you probably want to go. It's almost three am, we've been out at straight clubs for ages."  
"I dunno, I haven't been since Blaine..." My voice trailed off. I realized how stupid I was being, how I was letting this break up take over my life. And it could hardly be called a break up, I mean, we were never officially dating.

"No, you're right. I do want to go." I said, hopping up. "Let's go."  
"We're leaving these twats, I assume?" Sam said.  
"I'm pretty sure they won't be able to walk there on their own, so yes." I rolled my eyes as Puck and Finn crawled around on the floor.  
"We'll come back for them later."

* * *

"Fucking queers, go fuck yourselves!"

I slowed down, looking around to the front of Jenners, where a large group of angry, drunk men were yelling at a couple of boys walking into the club.

"You fuck yourselves! It's fucking legal, why the fuck do you care?"

Sam grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind the strip of bars.  
"We should go help them." I said.  
"No, we shouldn't." Sam said dismissively. "They'll be fine, they're probably already inside the club by now."

I pulled away from him. "I want to go in the front."  
"No, you don't. Everyone will see you, and your life will be even more hellish."  
"I want to."  
"I won't let you, it's dangerous."

Sam stepped in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking me in the eye.  
"Kurt, I know why you're doing this. You're angry about Blaine and the Rent money. You're also drunk. Trust me, it's not worth it."  
"Why do I have to hide who I am." I muttered, glaring at Sam. "I should be allowed to be proud of who I am!"  
"Shut up! Don't be so loud! The world sucks, I know! But it's not my fault!"

I looked away, ashamed.  
"I'm sorry." I mumbled, softening my glare. Sam relaxed too.  
"It's okay. So, the back door?"

I cocked an eyebrow, smirking. "Back door? I like your choice of words, Mr. Evans."  
"Oh, fuck off, Kurt, you know what I meant." Sam shoved me lightly, although he too was laughing.

* * *

"Survived the Apocalypse, I see." I looked over at Finn, stretched out on the bed next to me, the both of us having just woken up.  
"Whaa?" He said in confusion before understanding dawned over him. He groaned. "Oh my god!"

"I think you mean "Apopolsp"". Sam laughed from the couch. He stood up slowly, clutching his head. "Fuck my head hurts."  
"Mine too." I grumbled, rolling over back under the covers.

I wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. My head was pounding like crazy and my stomach felt so uneasy that even the slightest movement might set it off. Apparently Puck was having the same problems. I could hear him hurling from the bathroom.  
"Stop it!" I yelled, my voice muffled from the blankets. "You're going to make me puke too!"  
"Same here!" Finn whined.

"Coffee, anyone?" Sam muttered as he took from coffee beans from our meager supply and set the rusted kettle on the even more rusted stove.  
"I'm never eating anything ever again." Finn declared.  
"Except your words." I muttered. "Give it a few hours and you'll be eating us out of the house."

From the bathroom came the sound of more hurls, followed by an "Oops".  
"If you missed the toilet again you're cleaning it up!" Sam yelled.

I would like to say this was a one time event in our house, but truthfully, this was a typical Sunday morning for us. Saturday night we'd party and drink away our paychecks and worries. Sunday, we'd pay for it. You'd think we'd be used to it, but we were some of the biggest babies, I had to admit.

* * *

The buzzer sounded and woke me up. I sat up groggily, tossing the pile of blankets off of me.  
"Somebody get that." I mumbled.  
"You get it." Finn muttered.

I was about to lay back down but the buzzing continued. Somebody really wanted to come in.  
"Did Puck lock himself out again?" I asked.  
"Nope!" Puck yelled from the bathroom.

I yawned and swung my feet over the bed. My head still hurt, but at least the pounding was gone. And I no longer felt like I was about vomit, which was good. Puck, on the other hand, didn't appear to be as fortunate as I. As I walked towards the buzzer I heard him hurling again.

"Who is it?" I said into the speaker. A pause followed, and then an answer.  
"Blaine."

I gasped. If I wasn't fully awake before, I was now.  
"Uh, come up." I said quickly, buzzing him in.

I didn't have time to wonder what Blaine was doing here. I glanced down at myself, I was still in the same dark jeans as yesterday, and a white undershirt that I noticed was stained with beer. I hastily tossed the shirt aside and grabbed a dark pullover hoody.

I hurried over to a mirror. My hair was atrocious. I quickly ran my hand over it, trying in vain to give it some style. It was no use.

I could hear Blaine climbing the stairs. I looked around our apartment. It was a chaotic mess. There was clothes and dishes everywhere. I grabbed a few cups and ran them over to the sink, trying desperately to make it seem not so horrifying. Blaine had never been inside our apartment before.

Blaine knocked loudly on the door.  
"What's going on?" Finn murmured, squinting. "And turn off the light."

I ignored him and ran to the door. I hesitated, giving one last attempt at flattening my hair. Then I put a smile on my face and opened the door.  
"Blaine, hi."

Blaine smiled, though I could tell something was wrong.  
"Hello." He said politely. I led him inside and shut the door behind him.

I felt self conscience as Blaine's eyes swept over the apartment. It was one large room with a bathroom of the back. To the right was the kitchen unit. Old and rusted appliances which were cluttered with chipped and dirty dishes filled half the apartment. On the other side, was a tiny TV and a mismatched couch and loveseat from Sam's parent's house. Beside that was our four beds, crammed together. Sam and Finn lay half naked across their beds.

Then there was the bathroom, which Blaine would not be seeing today as I could still hear Puck throwing up. Hopefully it was going into the toilet, or I'd have a strange smell to explain to Blaine.

"Sorry about the mess." I said. "We were out late last night."  
"I can tell." Blaine laughed.

I looked closely at Blaine. His eyes were red and with dark circles underneath. His dark curls, usually gelled and neat, were loose and un kept. Although, I had to admit, it was very adorable.

But I could tell Blaine was upset. He too, looked like he'd been up late. But for a different reason.  
"Are you okay?" I asked carefully. I noticed a rucksack in his hands.  
"Um, yeah." He said. "I-well, I got into a fight with my dad... and he kicked me out. He's not paying for my college tuition anymore either, so, I don't really have anywhere to go..." Blaine trailed off, looking away.

"Of course you have somewhere to go!" I said warmly. "You're always welcome here." I pulled Blaine into a hug. He hesitated at first, but then clutched tightly to me, burrowing his head in my shoulder.

"Blaine!" Puck stumbled out of the bathroom and Blaine and I broke apart. I felt a pang of annoyance at Puck.

"Hey, Puck." Blaine smiled, reaching forwards to shake Puck's hand.  
"Dude! We've missed you at the Millwall games! Nobody can keep the crowd going like you, bro!"  
"I've missed it too!"

"Puck, shouldn't you be showering or something?" I said irritably. I turned to Blaine. "He's been throwing up all morning. He has zero understanding of the term "too much alcohol'"

"I don't think any of you do." Blaine laughed. I followed his gaze over to Sam, who was out cold, half off the bed, and Finn, who was still trying to untangle himself from the sheets.

"You may have a point, curls." I teased, leaning forwards and tugging on a curl. It bounced back quickly.  
"Hey!" Blaine said defensively. "I didn't have time to do my hair, don't judge! It's not my fault my hair doesn't always look perfect, like yours."  
"My hair is disgusting today!"  
"I think it's beautiful, like everyday."  
"Well I think your curls are adorable."

We smiled shyly at each other. I curled one of Blaine's dark curls around my finger, staring into his large and kind hazel eyes.

"Well, this is my queue to leave." Puck said, heading over to the fridge.

"Want to go out somewhere?" I asked. "We can get some dinner and talk."  
"Sounds great." Blaine said. "Just let me get ready."  
"Same."

Blaine picked up his rucksack and headed over to the bathroom. I prayed all the puke was long ago flushed down the toilet. I gazed after Blaine, watching his curls bounce as he walked.  
"Hey, Blaine!" I said suddenly.  
"Yeah?"  
"Keep the curls."

****


End file.
